Reminders
by Misfit Soul
Summary: Each chapter picks some object that relates to Bang and explores how Cristina deals with it.  The story begins directly after the season 3 finale.  Please read and review.  Disclaimer: I own nothing. Complete!
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: I finished this a few weeks ago, but have now decided to place it here. Please read and review. As always constructive criticism is appreciated._**  
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**One **

The dress lay pooled around her feet, its silky material infecting her with memories, desires. Cristina was standing there sobbing, clutching to her person because right now everything she knew was cracking. Everything had changed because there was this new gaping hole in her life. Burke was gone. He had walked away from her and taken everything that mattered with him.

Except her. She didn't matter anymore.

Another sob convulsed through her. She was crying in the same way she had after her surgery. Was this another mental breakdown? Would she be able to stop? Last time his arms had wrapped around her. He had pulled her into his comforting embrace and soothed her, but Burke wouldn't be here this time. He wouldn't be here to hold her.

She collapsed on the floor and bunched the dress in her fists. Cristina wanted to tear at it, to shred this thing that had not allowed her to breathe…this thing that she had been wearing when he left her. Then she realized she was still in the slip. It was just one more piece of cloth that had choked her. It was something else that was responsible for choking her and she could not stand to keep it on.

She clawed at the corset portion, desperately trying to break free. She could not get her delicate surgeon's fingers around the ties. They were escaping her, twisting their way out of her grasping fingers. Meredith pressed her hands away before using the scissors on those as well. Cristina sighed heavily.

She was free.

Meredith had grabbed some of her clothes. Warm sweats and long sleeved shirt. Thank god they were new from the laundry. She could not handle the smell of Burke on her clothes right now. Meredith laid a comforting arm around her before leading her to the bedroom. Cristina shied away; she couldn't go in there. She would smell his scent, roll over his side of the bed and remember what she had lost.

A wracking sob took hold of her again and the surgeon part of Cristina despised this weakness. She hated the pathetic girl who was crying over a man, but that side could not convince her to stop her tear ducts. It could not convince her to ignore the pain so it sat there contemptuously glaring at her.

Meredith found her again sitting on the couch. She had brought pillows from the storage room and a blow up mattress. Burke had used those for when his fraternity brothers came over. Meredith sat there blowing it up and then put a comforter there and pillows. Cristina numbly stumbled over into the mattress and curled up. Meredith wrapped an arm around her again as more weeping arrived.

The tears were slow now, dripping from her eyelids like a broken faucet. Broken. That's what she was…broken by a man who had somehow convinced her love was worth it.


	2. Chapter 2

It had been hours since Meredith had fallen asleep. The sound of her soft snores filled the empty apartment. Cristina's tears had stopped so now she lay staring at an empty shelf. After a while, Cristina felt as if she could not stay still anymore. Careful not to disturb Meredith, Cristina crept from the air mattress and walked into their, well it wasn't really theirs anymore, bedroom.

The covers were still tangled from where she had lain yesterday. The comforter was curled into a miniature swirl and the pillows were haphazardly thrown about. It looked too much the same, too normal and natural. She half-expected Burke to come in and make the bed. The man had OCD that way. But, of course, no one came because no one was here. No one was here to clean the mess up, to put everything back into nice and neat order.

She noticed the bedside drawer was open. Had he opened it before he left? Had he checked for anything else important among its contents? She had to stop thinking this way. It did not matter anymore. He had left. He had made his choice. She had not been enough to him and those were the clear-cut facts. Act like a surgeon, dammit.

Inside the drawer, the ring sparkled in the moonlight. She wondered if she had worn it, if she had made that change, would things have been different? She closed the drawer. It no longer mattered. That ring was nothing now, but a shiny rock on a metal band. It meant nothing, but Cristina opened the drawer again anyway.

She picked it up carefully, examining it in the silver moonlight. Cristina Yang did not do rings, but Cristina Burke would have. That distinction was some difference that she had never really acknowledged in her head. Becoming a Burke meant change, but like the ring that was insignificant.

Walking out of the room, Cristina grabbed the choker from the floor. She found the box for the choker and placed both choker and ring inside. Meredith stirred, but did not wake. Cristina stepped silently into the kitchen. She hid the box in her bag. Cristina did not need any comments from Meredith in the morning. But then again, what would there be to comment on?

After all, they didn't mean anything.

Still she left the box inside her bag. She would bring them to Mama…no Mrs. Burke in the morning. It seemed right to give these back to the Burkes. They had been meant to symbolize her entrance into the family. She no longer needed them now.

She would never be a Burke.


	3. Chapter 3

**Three **

Cristina knocked on room 634's door. She knew they would be awake. They had always showed up ridiculously early to their-her-the apartment during the planning stage. She waited a few moments before raising her hand to knock on the door again, but the door opened. Cristina tried to smile and put on her mask before realizing she didn't have to anymore.

" Cristina? Why are you here so early?" The woman seemed genuinely surprised as if their wedding had gone off without a hitch and they should be on their honeymoon. She had actually taken time off for the honeymoon. She had taken time off for him and now all she wanted to do was cut and save lives.

She still needed to be polite. She certainly had not left her at the chapel. "I apologize for the early morning visit, Mam— Mrs. Burke. I just wanted to return a few things."

Her eyes softened. "I don't know what possessed Preston to leave Cristina. After all you did for the wedding…he wanted you to be happy."

Cristina gritted her teeth. She wasn't exactly happy at the moment was she? "I wanted to return your choker." She handed her the box, turning around to leave.

"It should be yours. I passed it on to the next Burke woman and what's this? Is this the engagement ring Preston bought you?" She reluctantly turned around to face Mrs. Burke again.

"It is. When you see Bu-Preston, you can return it to him. I'm sure he'll see you off at your flight tomorrow." Why couldn't she just accept the choker and move on?

"But Cristina, this is yours. Preston gave it to you. I'm sure my son would not take back something he offered." He took back his proposal.

"Honestly, Mrs. Burke I don't particularly want it there to remind me that your son left me at the chapel. I hope you have a safe flight." She nodded her head and walked to the elevator.

While she was riding in the elevator, she leaned back against the wall. She closed her eyes tightly, trying to go back to her hardcore surgeon self. She wanted the Cristina before Burke back. It was his fault. He had made her want it so much. He had made her want acceptance into his family. She had almost wanted Mrs. Burke to like her. Almost.

A lot of things in her life were almosts.


	4. Chapter 4

**Four **

The locker room, for once, was empty and silent. She had arrived at the hospital at that time of day when interns and residents alike were busy with their patients. No one was taking a break or eating a snack. There was no gossiping in the locker room or the whiny complaints of the lazy weaklings who could not cut the 100-hour work week. She relished this time, this privacy that had been granted to her.

Cristina opened her locker, some of her old clothes spilling out onto the benches. She grabbed her scrubs, which were hanging from one of the hooks. These were clean and had that sterile smell of the hospital. She needed to work today. She needed to cut into someone's abdominal cavity. She needed the feel of a scalpel in her hand.

She needed to forget.

After pulling on the scrub top and stuffing her jeans into her locker, Cristina slid into the pants. She tied the drawstrings, focusing on each and every movement to make them precise. Her curls bounced across her shoulders, cascading down her back. She looked up and reached in her locker, searching for a hair tie. Instead she found a scrub cap.

It was one of Burke's scrub caps, the same one he had worn during one of Denny's surgeries. Her fingers ran over the material. She saw little patters in it weaving themselves across the yellow fabric. When was the last time he had worn this one? It had been a while if she remembered correctly. It barely felt like his now.

Her hands curled around the scrub cap, twisting and wrinkling the fabric. She sat on the bench and examined it. She should do something with it and break the ties she had with him. He clearly had done that when he took everything with him. This object should not matter anymore. Cristina wanted to throw it away, to toss it into the basket of dirty scrubs and let it get loss in the chaos that was the hospital's laundry system. She could not throw it so instead she dropped it on the floor, her eyes following it to the ground.

Cristina sat staring at it, thinking. She remembered her ritual of looking at the scrub cap every morning. Every day she told herself that someday soon she would be a surgeon like Burke. She would cut with skill, make decisions with ease, and become one of the most well-respected cardiothoracic surgeons of the world. She remembered that feeling of admiration and yearning every time she looked at the cap.

Now, however, it had lost that representation. No longer was it a symbol for excellence. True surgeons did not need a piece of fabric to make themselves great. Brilliant surgeons did not need a scrub cap to excel. Excellent surgeons did not need a scrub cap to cut with skill or to secure the best cases. Real surgeons did not need yellow and red scrub caps to bring them luck.

Broken surgeons did not need reminders of how they became broken.


	5. Chapter 5

**Five **

Cristina stretched the tape across another box, severing it with a quick twist. This was the halfway mark, but she was sure that they would finish tonight. Meredith, Callie, and Izzie had come to help her pack for her new apartment. Cristina had not wasted time finding one. She did not want to be here not when she felt his presence everywhere in the apartment.

She had been amazed at how all of their possessions had intermingled in the previous months. Her medical journals had somehow found themselves in his Dewey Decimal system of shelves. Their clothes, hers, strewn and wrinkled, and his, carefully folded and pressed, were scattered in the drawers.

At first, she could not bear to look at them. The pity in her friends' eyes, however, jolted her surgeon self awake. The mental berating (was this a sign of schizophrenia?) she received pulled her together. Then she began to separate and remove from their drawers and shelves what was hers with a ferocity that unnerved the others.

Moving on and letting go was her new path. Out of this apartment, gone from the dead relationship, and then she would be back. She would be Cristina Yang again, the one and only. She would get her edge back. She would become hardcore and sarcastic again. She would be a stronger Cristina this time.

" Cristina, is this yours or Burke's?" Izzie's voice floated to her from another room.

When she walked in, she froze. Izzie was holding the box in her hands, the pretty piece of lacquered wood that she had hid deep within the recesses of the little-used room. Opening her mouth to speak, she seemed surprised at the lack of sound. Izzie gave her a strange look before opening the box.

"Post-it notes? What are these for?"

Cristina could not bring herself to reply. Met by her silence, Izzie began to scan the notes. Boundaries were never her strong suit. She heard a little gasp from Izzie and then Izzie, apparently not understanding the angry glares, began to read aloud.

Some of them were just normal, everyday messages. Do you want chicken for dinner? I'll be late tonight. Others were something more private. They were the girly love notes Burke had given her. He had placed some on the mirror so she would see it after she showered. Others he placed over the snooze button, which proved a better wake-up call then the shrill beeping of the alarm.

The truth was despite her mocking comments she had loved reading them, finding them, even telling Meredith about them. Of course, Cristina had never told him this as she had told him so many others things. A thousand promises on those post-it notes all shattered by the creator. She almost laughed at the thought, a hysterical laugh, but she held it in.

Meredith came in and glanced at her before ripping the stack away from Izzie. That's what your person did for you. She would take away opportunities for other people to be irritating, particularly opportunities from certain dumb blondes. Izzie began to protest, but something had clicked in her mind and she stopped herself. How Cristina loved quiet Izzie.

"I'm going to put these with the other stuff that you don't want. Is that okay?"

Cristina numbly nodded. Meredith walked away carrying the open box. The neon colored post-it notes left after burn on her eyelids, but she closed her eyes tightly anyway. Inhaling and exhaling slowly, Cristina left the room to watch Meredith place the box on top of her wedding dress and all the other wedding-related materials. The stack hurt her, but the newly emerging Cristina told her to stop thinking about it, so she did.

She could not allow herself to keep thinking about him.


	6. Chapter 6

**Six **

Callie and Izzie had left. It was just her and Meredith in the apartment now. Surrounded by a sea of boxes, Cristina stared. There was still some random objects piled around the apartment, and she had left all the furniture. She had taken away what mattered to her too and some things that didn't. It seemed lifeless, the lights stale and the table a mirror of the emptiness.

She sighed heavily. Cristina did not know what to do and that was an uncomfortable feeling. The moving men would not arrive until tomorrow. The blow-up mattress had popped and she did not intend to sleep in the actual bedroom. Nor did she want to go to the youth hostel for the night. Knowing her luck, Izzie would probably try to get her to talk about her feelings so they could have a bonding moment.

The thought disgusted her.

Meredith suddenly grinned and said, "I have an idea."

She grabbed her arm and pushed Cristina toward the door. Cristina stood dumbfounded while Meredith grabbed the wedding pile, the remains of a relationship. She opened the door and forced Cristina out and into the elevator. Had Meredith snapped? She was not in the mood to fix Meredith.

"Where are we going?"

"My house first. I want to pick up some things. Then the beach."

"We don't do the outdoors Meredith." Cristina paused. "You're not going to repeat the drowning are you? I don't have something interesting to tell you when you wake up this time."

"Shut up Cristina. Sit and relax. Oh, we'll need alcohol too. I hope I have some of that at home."

"Of course you do. Swimming with alcohol isn't good either." Meredith looked at her again. Fine, she would be quiet.

Meredith had emerged with an entire box full of papers and clothes and a bag. Still bewildered, Cristina examined the contents. Some of the papers were poems from McDreamy. My god the man loved to be a cliché. Most of the clothes inside belonged to him, but there was Meredith's Dartmouth T-Shirt too. What the hell was going on?

When they arrived at the beach, Meredith grabbed the box and the bag, her thin frame nearly collapsing beneath the weight. Cristina picked up the wedding pile, recoiling when she touched the dress again. They walked to a fire pit and Meredith stopped, upending the bag. Wood poured out in a disorderly pile. She tossed a match in after she poured on oil.

"What the hell are we doing?"

"It's a bonfire. You're going to burn all your Burke crap and I'm burning all my Derek crap. It's cleansing or whatever." She started to dump her box into the flames. "Like you said, we're free of them now. It's over. People like us don't get happy endings. We're never going to have it all."

"Maybe I didn't try hard enough…" Cristina whispered low enough that Meredith could not hear her.

She watched the ashes and the curling wisps of burning paper float away in the breeze. She followed their path as they sank into the ocean. Resolutely, she too placed all her objects in the fire. The post-it notes burned immediately as did their container. The slip and her dress however, burned at a much slower pace, the flames slowly devouring the edges. She sat down in the sand and watched her relationship and all its relics go up in flames.

Meredith passed her some vodka and there the two sat, watching the fire. Cristina barely blinked as she continued to watch the flames eat away at her memories. Her throat was burning from the smoke and her eyes crinkled. Was this what freedom felt like? Was this what she had wanted? She closed her eyes, rubbing the smoke away. She knew that this little jaunt of theirs meant nothing whatsoever. She would never be free. She couldn't.

Because every time she closed her eyes she saw his face.


End file.
